Bleach Infinite
by Darridus
Summary: Booker Dewitt is dead. The false shepherd's story isn't over yet, though. He's taking the afterlife by storm, and he'll go through hell and high water to make sure the mistakes of his past are not repeated. Rated M for strong language.
1. Chapter 1 : Wake Up

**Warning : 1st Person POV contains Strong Language**

* * *

Stop me if you've heard this one before, but I've always heard that people say drowning is a lot like going to sleep. Now, you may not know it, and I certainly didn't, but that statement is not even remotely close to the truth. Sure, you get woozy and you have trouble thinkin' close to the end of it all, but before that there's all sorts of struggling, flailing and tossing about. It's like you're some kind of animal, getting your lungs skinned from the inside by some kind of little goblins while a bunch of strong, steady hands keep you under 'till you stop twitching.

Drowning sucks, is what I'm trying to say. It ain't like going to sleep. Hell, if I'd known what a hassle it'd be, I'd of just took out my Mauser and do it quick and clean. God knows I've been shot enough times to get used to the feeling.

But speaking of God, I guess he wouldn't have like that. Heh. God probably wasn't too happy about a whole lot of things, come to it. I could just see the almighty father up there now, with some kind of disappointed look in his eye. Just like my daddy...He'd say, 'Booker, you done fucked up good now, hadn't ya?'. And I'd say, "Yessir lord God almighty, I sure has.". And then I'd be wonderin'...wonderin, well what the fuck's gonna happen to me now? 'Cause if theres one goddamn thing in this world, I know I'm not gettin' straight through them pearly gates. I could see St. Peter up there, laughin' his saintly ass off at such a notion.

No...even without Comstock...I've done too much. Ain't never met a man who wasn't a sinner, and I've met worse cases than most in recent times. But that ain't no excuse. I'd killed before I came to that fuckin' city up in the sky. I remember what that guy said, too, when I first came in there. "It's heaven, friend...or at least the closest thing too it!". If only I'd known what the fuck was going on back then. But no. That'd be runnin' away from what I did. This whole goddamn thing started because I was a drunken, dicy shithead who _gave away his own fuckin' baby daughter to pay off a gambling debt_. Yeah...way I figure...God's gonna be mighty pissed.

But I'm getting ahead of myself here, it looks like. I didn't know what'd happened, at first. I just sort of...woke up. The sun was all getting in my eyes, but they didn't hurt any. I could still feel the water all around me, though. I felt my hands sinking into the muddy river bottom as I forced myself up out of the creek. And lo and behold, here I was. Back to where it all started...and where it all ended. Wounded Knee Creek.

The river was still as clear and as beautifully pristine as ever. All the blood had washed away a real long time ago...but even if I bathed in this river for fifty years, I knew that I wouldn't ever be clean. Not after what I did here. This place...It might be pretty and nice now, over twenty years after the massacre, but I knew the truth. All those women and kids. All dead. And It wasn't a goddamned battle, no matter what fucking Forsyth said. We didn't need to do that. We...we went too far. And I was worst of 'em all.

I didn't kill 'cause I had too, or cause I wanted Uncle Sammie to be proud of me. I killed those people because I _liked_ it. I took trophies for fucks sake. I still remember making that goddamn thing. A necklace made out of red-skinned ears and human teeth. I remember the look in the sergeant's eyes...I thought he looked like he'd seen the devil. I told him as much, and asked him what was bothering him. He just kept staring at my bloodstained face for awhile. 'Nothin'', he'd said. I guess I shouldn't asked what was wrong with him. He was a good man, as I recall. Had a wife and kid back in Massachusetts. Question I shoulda' been askin' was...well, what the fuck was wrong with me?!

I don't know...but one thing was clear. I was back here, now. And if there is one thing I know for true fact, Wounded Knee Creek is not and never will be associated with anything that I could possibly misconstrue as "Heaven".

I just sort of stood there for the longest time. Had Elizabeth failed...No. No, if she'd changed her mind at the last minute, I wouldn't be here, like this. She wouldn't have just...left me here. Right? Goddamn it. We'd agreed...We'd agreed that it had to be done. Comstock had to be smothered in his crib as a baby for us to kill him. And that crib was this river. I had been that baby. We'd agreed that she would drown me here, and get rid of Comstock and all his other cronies and everything _he'd_ done, at least. I may not be able to take back what I did here, but I could've at least take back everything Comstock ever did. Everything he ruined. Columbia, Anna...and New York. I could take back all the lives he had destroyed. And fuck me if that wasn't worth my miserable, fucked up life.

Now that I think on it though...somethin' ain't right here. I'm in the middle of Wounded Knee Creek, so...shouldn't I be smelling something right about now. Last time I was here, I mean, when all those other Annas came along and drowned me, I remember smelling hibiscus. It had almost reminded me of those berries that Ma would always grow in her garden back home, 'fore the fever took her and Pa both up to heaven. But now, I noticed I couldn't smell nothin'. I tried to check my chest, make sure I was breathin' all right, but then I found out that wasn't the problem...

I didn't have a pulse. My heart had stopped beating.

...

Well, shit.

I guess Anna really did keep her end of the bargain, after all. Clearly...I was dead, and that meant Comstock was dead. But, how was I here, then? I looked down and saw it, though, just to check. As I had suspected...my feet didn't make ripples. There weren't any tiny waves in the water, or the noises of what _should_ have been me sloshing around in the muck. I felt the chilly, muddy water down by my legs, and my were all covered in muck...but it was like I wasn't really there. I could feel the world, but it couldn't feel me back. When I lifted up my shoes, there weren't any sunken footprints in the mud where I _know_ they ought to have been. There was clearly only one logical explanation.

I was a fuckin' ghost.

...

"...Are you for real, or are you just fucking with me up there, God?" I asked out loud, even though no one was around. And if this really was what I thought it was, there might not have been anybody listening up there either.

Now let me get this straight out there. Now, I had just fought my way through hell and back, killing who the fuck knows how many people on my way bustin' out of my other-future self's fuckin' sky church fortress. And now...now you're telling me, who either did all that or actually dedicated his life and the lives of thousands of others to God and the Christian church...that everything I ever fucking learned in Sunday School was a fuckin' lie? That all that..._everything_, that Comstock did...hand been based all off of one...big...lie...?

Well.

Halle-Fuckin'-Lujah. I'm a fuckin' ghost.

So. If I am right...and I swear to God he better not be pullin' my fuckin' leg up there somehow, I was a ghost. That goes against everything I ever learned in the Bible, in School, and from Minister Washington. This all points to one thing, and it makes me want to laugh my ass off and drown myself again in my own tears all at once. God is _fake_.

Comstock...I...destroyed cities, ruined...ended lives, caused an unbelievable amount of pain and suffering for the _biggest hoax in the history of forever_. I was a fucking ghost and there were no angels, no demons, no heaven or hell for me. I'm just standing here like some dumbfuck in the middle of a fucking creek where a I killed a bunch of people, and to top it all off, I'd been killed by my only daughter who is now a self-made orphan without a single penny to her name. Well...this day, was...Just...Fuckin'...Perfect.

I fell over after that, and passed right the fuck out.

* * *

"Hey...hey, dude, wake up!" I heard. It was a shrill, annoying voice. It sounded like some sort of small, irritating creature had just decided to interrupt my well-earned rest, and naturally I told it to piss right the fuck off.

"Hey! How rude! I'm trying to help you out, mister! Up up! C'mon! Up!" It came again. Groggily, I decided that it probably wasn't giving up anytime soon, so I pretty much had to just get myself up out the suprisingly comfortable riverbed and see who the hell it was. Maybe another ghost? I can't imagine that I was just automatically visible, after all...otherwise, there'd be more ghost sightings and shit like that, right? I'd have heard about it in the papers.

"Yeah, yeah, I heard you the first time, pipsqueak." I said to the diminutive child before me. She was a little blonde girl with extraordinarily large pigtails and sharp amber eyes. She was gritting her teeth in annoyance, for some unfathomable reason. She was the one who had interrupted _my_ sleep, right? She sported an unsightly snaggle tooth, and looked to be about 10 or 11 to him. "So who the hell are you supposed to be, kid? I don't need any help, I was just taking a nap. Not drowning...anymore, at least." She raised her eyebrow ever so slightly, but she was still glaring right at me. Precocious little brat.

"...Do you have any idea how much trouble it is to come all the way out here to find you?" She finally asked. I shook my head dumbly, barely acknowledging her in favor of observing my surrounding for any friends she might've brought along. Normally I wouldn't be so suspicious, but after seeing those weird-ass 'Boys of Silence' my creepy fuckin' otherworldly-self made, I had sort of been conditioned for kids about her height to come callin' for armed backup if they found me out. I had been asleep, too. I didn't know if ghosts can be killed, but I was certainly not in any hurry to find out.

"Ugh..." She sighed in exasperation. "Look, I didn't come all the way out here just to track down one measly, greasy, rude Plus like you. Captain Urahara's been getting some weird readings on his sensors lately for this area, so he sent me to check it out. I just came to get you when my soul pager went off. We use 'em to detect Pluses like you if there isn't any dedicated monitoring of the area set up already. Anyways...get ready."

"...Did you just call me a Puss?" I asked quietly. It's not like I was going to do anything about it, really, she was just some kid. It was what she'd said after that that really worried me. Get ready for what? Was she gonna call out her buddies now, or some shit? I slipped my hand down to my holster to get out my trusty Mauser...

Only for me to come up empty. I checked my inside-vest holster, and found myself settled with a gently used, mint condition, _empty holster_...Fuck my afterlife.

"Hold still, idiot..." She said, almost bored. She had an impassive expression on her face, now. I hadn't noticed before, but she was wearing some kind of that oriental sammy-rye gear. Now, she certainly hadn't come up empty when reaching for her weapons.

I watched with mouth agape as she drew a curved saber with a fluid motion I was sure trained cavalrymen couldn't have matched. "Shit..." I said. I didn't want to have to fight some kind...especially not here of all places. I winced for a moment at the memory of the Creek's dark past, and she took the opportunity like an early Christmas present.

With the force of a bucking bronco, she rammed the pommel of her saber down on my forehead with practiced ease. The last thing I felt before my world burst into a blazing, white-blue light was a skull-splitting headache...and then I just drifted off, feeling for all the world like I was floating on air. It was almost...like...going to sleep.

* * *

**A/N: I fully intend to continue working on my other stories, and I know I have a tendency to publish new ones and then not work on them forever...I just happened to get inspired to write a BioShock Infinite Crossover after I'd finished the game yesterday. The next chapter of Dishonored Effect is about 1/4 done and the next Simulacrum and Ultimate Arachnos are both 1/2 done. I also thought I'd try something new this time and go for a first person POV rather than a third person one. Sorry if I overdid it with Booker's colorful language.**


	2. Chapter 2 : Chinaland

I don't know how long it was before I came to. All I know is I woke up looking up to a clear, cloudless blue sky. I started hearing stuff, too. I heard the wind ruffling through the tall grass in gentle waves of air, and leaves shifting and dancing in the wind. Okay, so I was somewhere else, this time.

The last thing I remember was getting clobbered over the head by that half-pint kid. Damn…she's really got an arm, for a midget. My head feels like I took a horseshoe to the fuckin' face. The sudden reminder of getting my lights knocked out by some kid half my size just because I lost my gun doesn't brings the pain right back to the surface. The behind my eyes gets worse, and I squint and grip the bridge of my nose. "Fuck…" On top of everything else, I've got to deal with a _migraine_ now. Just fucking typical.

I pull myself to my feet a lot faster than last time, trying to get a bearing on my new surroundings. One thing I can say for this place- "This sure ain't Wounded Knee…" I mutter under my breath. As far as I can tell, I'm not really injured or anything. I dust myself off and find that my shirt isn't even bloody or covered in gunpowder, which is an uncommon state for my clothes these days. My Mauser's still gone, though, and my Sky-Hook isn't attached to my belt anymore either. Damn. I'm gonna miss those two…got me out of a jam more times than I can count.

But another problem soon presents itself. My stomach, not having had any nourishment for about 2 days from my reckoning, let out a noisy growl that stretched on for almost ten seconds. I could feel the empty pit in my belly from where the rumbling was emanating, and cursed. "Fuckin' hell…." I said through clenched teeth. I had that particular kind of stomach ache where you're not sure whether you're hungry or you're about to throw up, but you're pretty sure that you're hungry because you have that whole empty feeling in your gut, and you know that you better get food soon or you're gonna be cranky for the rest of the day and maybe shoot somebody important on accident. No? Just me? Well, I was that kind of hungry, and I've experienced it before. There had been plenty of food in Columbia, but I'd pretty much just been eating that on the go whenever I could. Back in the army, though…there'd been some rough spots. Chasing the indjuns through the plains had really stretched us thin, and it didn't help when they started raiding our supply lines. We'd been hungry, angry, and mean when we found 'em at Wounded Knee. That don't excuse what we did, though…but I knew that right now, if I wanted to keep myself and more importantly my temper under control, I was gonna need to find some fucking food.

So I started walking. No direction in particular, but I couldn't be too far from some kind of town or somethin'. When the fuckin' brat kidnapped me, she hadn't had a horse or anything nearby so far as I could tell, so I can't imagine she managed to get me very far on foot, no matter how freakishly strong she was.

There was actually a clearing through the trees in front of me, and nothing but more woods behind me. Far as I could tell, the clearing was some kind of path, and the area back there had just been reclaimed by the forest at some point. So the idea is that I would just follow the path and end up back in town to see what I could dig up. I distantly wondered as I plodded along how the hell the kid had even managed to get me this far. Even if she hadn't been on foot or alone, this place had tall grass, trees I didn't recognize, and dirt that was distinctly discolored for the area we had been in. Unless I had been out longer than I thought…

As it turned out, the area I woke up in was actually pretty close to somewhere. As I rounded a corner on the path past a thicket of those weird, thin, cylindrical trees, I came face to face with a massive clearing in the woods. There was a huge swath of empty, rolling plains of grass, excepting only what appeared to be a small village. Now, I say village, but really, I have no idea what the fuck I was looking at. I saw what I thought were tilled fields, but they were only in little squares not half the size of some of the farms I had been to in Dakota, Texas, Kentucky, California, or anywhere else. The little paddies I saw weren't even backyard size, by my standards. And the buildings…they were all these wooden, shacky looking places with angular roofs made out of either what looked like big cloves of straw or tile. Whatever crops they were making, I sure didn't recognize 'em as any greens I ever saw.

But, I can't help but think I'd seen someplace like this before. Back in Columbia…or maybe it was before that? Shaking my head, I made my way forwards towards the closest farmhouse. Maybe there'd be something I could eat in there? Houses meant people, after all, and people generally meant food. It was weird, though. Usually, farmers should be working outside and tending the fields or something right about now, from what I understood. It was midday, though, and there wasn't a soul in sight. At least…not until I got a little closer to the farmhouse.

As I drew nearer to the closest of the oddly built houses, I started to notice things. For one thing, these houses were shoddily maintained at best. In places the wood was falling apart, and some of the windows were boarded up…with the boards broken in. Not only that, but whatever crops were growing around the house hadn't been organized or harvested in quite some time, as they now grew wildly and outside of their tills. Upon closer inspection, I saw that weeds had started to taken root among the proper crops. This farm had obviously gone unattended for quite sometime.

The most damning of the evidence, however, were the bloodstains on the steps. "Fuck…" I said out loud, when I reached for my Mauser only to be reminded of it's absence. Where the hell did that little brat bring me? The blood was splotched all over the wooden steps that led up to the door…which I discovered was barred shut from the other side. On the front of the thick wooden door, though, I could make out bloody handprints that cascaded down into unrecognizable streams of red down into a puddle of the stuff, which went all the way down until it mixed into the dirt and grass under the first step. I touched the door. The blood was still sticky, neither wet or dry yet. That meant that this had been recent, but I hadn't _just_ missed it.

This was starting to look bad. I don't know where the hell this place is supposed to be, but it was clear that something went down here. Whatever had happened, it looked like the body must've been moved after the fact. I found the reeking stench of blood to be detrimental to my appetite, but I was a worldly guy. This whole setup screamed one word in my head.

Massacre.

There were clearly no signs of resistance or battle, which means whoever got shot up by the door didn't put up much of a fight. Still, I couldn't find any lose bullet casings lying around, but I guess the smell of gunpowder might've just been overwhelmed by all of the blood. A quick scan of house's exterior revealed several other pools and splashes of blood all over the wooden walls, and I could only imagine that the rest of the village was similarly emptied.

The door wouldn't budge when I tried to open it. It was one of those doors that slide to the other side instead of opening, I found out. They didn't have too many of those back in Dakota...and that really worried me. This place really reminded me of something...but I just couldn't put my finger on it.

I tried busting the damn thing down, too. I stepped back down the two stairs again, and charged. _Thud._

"Hngh..." I grit my teeth. I had slammed my shoulder against the hard wooden door as hard as I could, but the thing held firm. "Fuck." I said. I started pounding at it with my fists. _Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud._

After a few minutes of that, I was breathing heavy and gripping my knees. The sun was starting to get to me by then, and my unruly hair was getting slick with sweat and I could feel a thin film of it all over my skin. "Goddamn it...Break, damn you!" I shouted out one last time, and this time it produced results.

Not quite what I was looking for, exactly, but a pleasant surprise. At least once I got to thinking about it. My left arm, shooting out to punch the heavy wooden door again, suddenly started...transforming. I knew what was coming. "Grah!" I exclaimed. My hand...the veins just started getting thicker, and turning purple, at first. I could see them outlined on the back of my hand just as I felt a burning pressure getting ready to burst out. Shit...here it comes...

And _blam! _Little pieces of skin and viscera burst from my left hand as it erupted into a bloody mess of ruined muscle that almost reminded me of the way rocks would sort of shatter while still in once piece if you melted 'em over a fire. the bloody patches started spreading...but that wasn't the interesting part. I could _feel_ the power, writing there in the palm of my hand. I had done this before. All I had to do now was...let go.

And just like that, I aimed at the door and let the bucking bronco loose on that fucker. Wood splintered into a thousand tiny pieces and blew out in every direction and even the frame of the door looked like a bomb went off in it. The rickety steps had been blown back by the force, and I'd had to duck to avoid one of the bigger pieces. It impaled itself in one of the trees a hundred or so yards behind me, and I whistled at my luck. That'd been a close one.

But I still needed to find out what the fuck was going on in this village. I really hope that little brat that _somehow_ dragged me here didn't get me involved in some kind of war or something...the last thing I needed was another one of those.

It was a pleasant surprise for me that I got to keep my vigors, at least. I guess ghosts got to keep stuff that was already a part of them when they died...but not their guns, for whatever fucking reason. With an exasperated shrug, I just decided to roll with it. I wasn't complaining, anyways. It was comforting to know that I wasn't _completely_ unarmed, especially in a place like this.

I stepped through the makeshift portal I'd made all by my lonesome, admiring my handiwork. The interior of the little house was plain, and now ruined. I discovered several pieces of furniture that had been blown back directly by my vigor. It looks like they were put in place to bar the door...from the inside. That could only mean that there were still people here.

I made sure to keep my guard up as I started towards the next room. There was no telling how the people who lived here might respond if they saw me. I was obviously a strange, grizzly looking man, breaking into their house. And if I read those bloodstains outside right, these people were probably a little short on trust and hospitality at the moment.

The next room was, fortunately for myself, a kitchen. Or at least it looked sort of like one. There were some bowls set up on a counter, anyways.

I started rummaging through the cabinets only to turn up mostly empty. There was one of those rice balls and a little bit of bread, though, which I promptly consumed. I had been hungry enough to eat a horse, though, so those little snacks didn't really do anything but whet my appetite. Damn. Places like this were usually packed with food, at least in my experience. I'd have to find more, and soon.

And then I heard some noises. At first, I thought that it was just my stomach acting up again, but it was different this time. I listened carefully and didn't make any sounds. It was still there. It was a high pitched and irregular sound, muffled by the wooden walls and already barely above a whisper. Whatever it was, it was coming from the big set of cabinets across the room. Two little double doors, almost the size of a small pantry.

Listening now, I could be sure it'd stopped. I really wish I'd of brought along my Mauser when I died…hell, even my Sky-Hook. As it was now…I might have get creative with the edge of that countertop.

I slowly creeped up to the big set of cabinets over by the other side of the kitchen. The little window on the side was the only source of light being cast in the otherwise dank and shadowy room. It was bright enough to bother my eyes a little after getting adjusted to the darkness of the rest of the house. My feet made slow, creaking noises on the floorboards no matter how carefully I stepped. The house must've been in poor condition, then.

I reached the set of cabinets, and I could just barely hear the sound of breathing in there. Whoever it was had done their best to keep it down, but I was on to them now. Resolving to get to the bottom of the issue, I threw open the double cabinet doors to see what was inside.

It certainly hadn't been what I was expecting. I suppose I was looking forward to finding a small animal or something…maybe the family pet of whoever lived here. I know what you're thinkin', 'what the hell, Booker? That's somebody's pet'. Well, that just goes to show you how fuckin' hungry I was right then.

But of course it wasn't the family pet, or any kind of animal at all. Instead, hunkered down in that tiny, damp cabinet was a small child. They couldn't be than eight or nine years old by my reckoning. They were wearing a raggy tunic and had their hair done up in a topknot, reminding me of the stereotypical image associated with Chinamen. I hadn't actually been to the battle of Peking…well, not _me_ me anyways. If Comstock's "Hall of Heroes" was to be believed, then the manner of dress that the cowering munchkin was wearing confirmed my theory. I was not only a fuckin' ghost, but that girl from before _somehow_ managed to deposit me in fuckin' _China_.

I'd try to tell the shivering kid I didn't mean him no harm, and that I was just wandering in here looking for food, but I had never even tried to learn Chinese. I had heard some of the migrant workers and miners talk in their native tongue before, of course, but that didn't mean I was anywhere close to being able to speak it myself. I also seriously doubted that the kid in the cabinet had any inkling of English in that noggin either. Peasant villages like this weren't exactly known for egg-heads, and I doubted China was too keen on Englishmen anyways given the outcome of Peking.

Still, it couldn't hurt to try to reassure the damn kid. He was sobbing his eyes out, now, and that ain't exactly doin' me any favors. The last thing I wanted was the people who did whatever happened here showing up with me unarmed and havin' to look after some Chinese kid. " Shh! C'mon, kid. Keep it down. I'm not here to hurt you." I tried to keep my voice down and nice and non-threatening, but I wasn't so sure it would work.

Amazingly enough, the kid stopped crying for a second. He looked at me for real for the first time, and to my surprise started talkin' English. "Y..you're not one of them…" He said, in a perfect American dialect. What the hell?

The kid was scrawny and had jet-black hair typical of most of the Chinese people I had seen. "Kid…" I said, in a deliberately slow tone of voice. "You can understand me?" I waited for him to respond.

"Y-yes! Please mister! You gotta help me!" Well, this was just great. Kid wanted somethin' from me. But…whatever happened here, this kid's probably a few parents short right now. And after I got Anna back…no matter how long it lasted, I wasn't just gonna leave another little kid out on their own. Not after last time.

"Slow down, junior." I said to him conciliatorily. "Just tell me what happened here. Can you do that?" He nodded feverishly, but then looked down to the floor and started to tell me what the fuck happened to this village. About time I got to the bottom of it.

"_They_ came here. The Shinigami." He said somberly, with a hint of fear in his voice.

"Who're the 'Shinigami'?" I asked lowly. I had no idea who the fuck these people were…but I think it's pretty clear who's side justice was on in this village. I would ask what kind of _animal _would do this to some quiet little village just minding their own business…but I knew _exactly_ what kind. It didn't take a genius to see that this was the work of good old fashioned mankind, and that these 'Shinigami' were some kind of fuckers who kill innocent people with nothing to gain. I could feel the rage startin' to build up in my belly, and a grim glare replaced my expression.

'T…they're… they're supposed to be the good guys…" The boy said, and it sounded like tears were startin' to form up in his downcast eyes. "My momma always said that the Shinigami were here to protect us from monsters and bad men…but my daddy said he didn't like them. He said that when they came here…too, and….and….an' they cut him up!" The little boy suddenly turned his head up to show his sobbing onyx eyes at me, and I felt my heart go out to him. I'd killed men before, sure…I killed women…and children, too, at Wounded Knee. But this…they were supposed to be _good guys_? They were supposed to _protect _these people. I'd heard all I needed to about these miserable fucks, except where the fuck they were so I could fuckin' kill 'em. The boy continued. "They-they…they took him away, then, and momma, too. Please, mister…I, I was so scared. I heard them taking Miki and Taro, too…so I hid in here. I…I can't save them…I'm too weak…I'm a coward…" He cried out. I put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"Listen, kid. You did good." I tried to encourage him, but I don't think anything I could say would help him at this point. Shit like this needed _action_. "I can't promise anything…but I'll follow the people who did this. I'll find them, and give 'em hell." My voice took on a dark tone at the end of that oath. "Now, I need you to tell me where these men went." I asked him more gently. I know I shouldn't stick my nose into this…but there's no way I'm gonna let people get away with this. Soldiers, it sounded like. Abusin' their power to murder innocent people and steal what they had. There hadn't been nearly enough food in the house for a full family of three…whoever these fucks were, they just made the biggest mistake of their goddamn lives…

"Th-they went that way…" The boy pointed west. "I…saw them taking all of my neighbors that way…it goes into the city…but I don't know why they took everyone…" Neither did I…but I was startin' to get some idea. Soldiers takin' people and bringin' em to the city…sounded an awful lot like _slavery_, to me. Whoever these fuckin' Shinigami or whatever the fuck they were, I knew I was about to introduce 'em to President Lincoln's emancipation procla-fuckin'-mation.

"Ok kid…you stay here. I'll take care of these people for you. Listen…I'll try to find your parents." I took in a deep breathe. "But if I don't come back by sundown, you gotta find somewhere to go…ok? It isn't safe here." The kid nodded vigorously.

"T-thank you mister. Please…please find my momma and daddy…" he begged as he did a little bow with his hands in the prayer position. God knows he'd need all the blessings he could get…If my theory was right, and that was his daddy's blood out there on the door…I don't think at least one 'em is gonna make it.

On that thought, I left through the big hole I'd made where the door used to be, and down onto the road in the direction the kid had pointed. I had some business to deal with, regardin' these…'Shinigami'…

I caught up to 'em about a mile or so up the road...they had stopped for the day, it looked like. It was a big clearing with nothin' but dirt and weeds around…but I could see some people chained up together over on one side of the clearing. They were wearin' torn up an' bloody long-tunics, and a lot of the men had their hair done up in knots like a lot of pictures I'd seen of Peking. And then I saw the Shinigami…

To my surprise, they were dressed just like that girl…black robes over white robes, and some of those curved swords. So that kid was a Shinigami…? Maybe a trainee or somethin'. Some of them had their blades out, but most of them just carried 'em in their sheaths. I grinned. These fuckin' Chinamen didn't even have guns…and I still had my vigors. Time to teach these clowns a lesson in 'Protect and Serve' 101. I'd kill 'em…kill 'em all. I'd slice off their fuckin' ears and make a goddamn ear necklace with it…No. No. I'd just kill 'em. I don't…I can't be the White Indjun again…I…I gotta think this through…I don't have my Mauser anymore, an' that bread and riceball wasn't exactly full of salt.

First…a distraction. I'd never been particularly fond of this vigor…it seemed too sadistic, even for scum like this. But as I surveyed the bloody and ragged bodies of the chained villages, and heard their wailing and gnashing of teeth even as the brutal Shinigami sergeant beat them with the pommel of his saber, I decided to make an exception…just this once.

"Sir!" Cried out Officer Roguchi to his immediate superior, Officer Akuko. Akuko had just finished quieting down one of the subjects who had been making too much noise. They could not afford to be discovered at this critical juncture in the mission. "Yes, Roguchi, what is it?" He asked his subordinate stoically. He realized that an outsider might find his actions to be…extreme…but Roguchi should know better. He had been in Squad 12 for fifty years now…he should know how things worked by now.

"Why are you doing this…sir?" Roguchi asked. He had just joined them on their way back from the village. Akuko sighed. He didn't have time to babysit his fledgling subordinate right now.

Roguchi had been more or less cut out of the loop when Captain Kurotsuchi took over the Research & Development Squad from the previous Captain. Akuko and many of his squadmates did in fact find such work to be…distasteful, at times, but Kurotsuchi was deemed suitable for the positionby Captain Commander Yamamoto-sama himself. Akuko was merely carrying out orders from above himself on the chain-of-command. Shinigami doctrine was clear on that point- A Shinigami such as himself was always to obey the orders of their Taicho, even beyond their personal sense of right and wrong. If they suspected dereliction of duty, they should bring it up with Captain Commander Yamamoto-sama or a Central 46 tribunal. So far, there was none of that. While there might be moral or ethical problems with missions such as these, they were in fact more or less legitimate research endeavors. If whatever data Captain Kurotsuchi needed from these people would help him defend the Soul Society, who was Akuko to stop his noble work?

"Orders, Roguchi. Captain Kurotsuchi himself gave the order to apprehend these villagers. As I understand it, his long-range sensors picked up atypical readings in this area, and we are bringing these villagers in to investigate the cause of them." Roguchi grit his teeth and glared at Akuko, no doubt preparing to go on another tirade about the immorality of their esteemed Captain's necessary actions again… but something stopped him.

It was a crow. A large, black, carrion bird had landed on Roguchi's shoulder. It seemed to…cock it's head to the side, for a moment, and then…it struck. Like lightning, it happened. Roguchi was normally a fairly competent Shinigami, but he had been dumbstruck by the appearance of such a thing. Normally, such birds did not appear this deep into the Rukongai. They mostly kept to Zaraki and the rest of the outer districts where there was always plenty for them to eat.

But Roguchi was no doubt much more concerned with the fact that the crow had just pecked out his left eye with a quick strike of it's beak. Akuko was dumbstruck as he watched in horror as his colleague's eyeball fell from the mouth of the crow down on the ground.

"AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!" Roguchi screamed as he clutched at the bleeding socket where his eye should be, even as more crows emerged from behind him. They just..flew up. There had to be a dozen of them…at least. Roguchi reached for his sword even as Akuko tried to slice at the beasts that fell upon his comrade, but the crows pecked at the two Shinigami's fingers until his Asauchi dropped to the ground. "Grahh!" Akuko screamed as he saw his hand…now missing his middle and index fingers. The other Shinigami were now taking notice of their plight, and some of them rushed over to help…from the other side of the field.

"Get them off me! Get them off! Get them off!" Screamed Roguchi, even as blood began to gurgle out of his torn out throat as the birds swarmed around him and nipped at the exposed flesh beneath his ripped up Shihakusho. He was missing both eyes now, and several teeth as well. His lips had been torn off and his face was quickly becoming a bloody ruin.

Akuko fared little better, as he felt his ear being torn from the side of his head even as his remaining fingers were bitten and pecked off one by one. "No! No, God, no!" Akuko cried out as his throat was eviscerated by a Murder of Crows.

His world went black as his eyes were simultaneously ruined by the pecking of a couple of merciless crows, so he didn't see so much as feel the heat of the fireball that set Kushiga and Nagaoka on fire. He heard their screams for a long time, and then heard more as even more fireballs could be felt from all around him.

"Why…why, god…Captain Kurotsuchi….we….we did everything you saaaiiiiiddd…." He trailed off as he blacked out from the blood loss.


	3. Chapter 3 : Ghost Salts

So I took down those guys. For all of their fancy uniforms and sabers, they weren't so tough. Classic divide and conquer tactics were all I needed to bring down a whole fuckin' platoon of 'em. Sorry bastards got spooked when I sent a Murder of Crows after their sergeant, and a few Devil's Kisses managed to burn the rest of 'em to cinders.

Well, not all of them. There were a couple of stragglers left, but I was all out of salts. I hadn't had a soda or coffee or anything since before I died, and something tells me that there aren't too many salt machines or vials lying around anywhere here in Chinaland.

The two survivors were standing back to back, lookin' around for me. I was stooped low in the thicket of plants and cylindrical trees, and if I'd of had my Mauser I'd of just bushwhacked 'em from there. Problem is, I _don't _have my Mauser. So it looks like we'll have to settle this the old fashioned way.

"Sh-Show yourself!" Shouted the Shinigami facing away from me. Honestly, you'd think they'd have the sense to run away after I took down their squad so fast, especially since they probably can't tell if I'm out of salts or not. "Don't think you can hide from us, you cur!" What the hell is a cur? Oh well, they're distracted.

With that in mind, I sprung outta the grass like a rattlesnake and sprinted over to the two lone Shinigami. The villagers had their heads buried in the grass, just tryin' to wait the whole thing out. Suits me. I don't need to worry about 'em too much this way. I didn't much care for the whole smell of the place, though. I never liked to overuse Devil's Kiss 'cause it always left the place stinking of burnt fools.

"You!" The Shinigami facing me shouted when he saw me comin'. I didn't say anything. He'd be dead soon anyways, so I might as well get the whole thing over with. He was an older guy, probably in his forties or fifties. The other one was younger, and he looked like he was just a kid. But I was on the warpath now, and I wouldn't stop 'til I'd killed every fuckin' Shinigami asshole who thought they could just wipe out a village whenever the fuck they wanted. I don't care who the fuck ordered it, there's some things you _just don't do_. It was bad enough, what I'd done to the Miniconjou at Wounded Knee…but these self-righteous fuckers just thought they could waltz in and murder and kidnap their own villages? _Their own people?_ I don't think so.

So the guy swings down his blade on me. I see it coming in and it seems almost…slow? Like the whole world's one of Comstock's picture shows and the wind-up got jammed. I felt more than told my own arms to come up on his grip. It was like a reflex.

He seemed surprise when I managed to grip the hilt of his sword over his own hands, and I started pushing back. He was stronger than he looked, though. "Hrrghh…" I grunted as we struggled with the blade. His buddy was circling around, tryin' to get a clear slice at me. I needed to finish this thing fast.

Then I remembered that all he was wearing were those flimsy robes, so I brought up my foot and kicked him in the gonads.

"Gragh!" He whimpered out in agony. But he lost his grip, so I managed to get control of the sword turn it around in his hands. Next thing he knows I've already slashed open a big gash in his throat. "Uhhrggurgle…" I heard him choking on his own blood even as I turned around and parried the incoming blow from his buddy.

"No! Mitsuke!" The younger one shouted and he started crying. What a baby. I'd seen buddies die, sure. It hurt. I might've even cried a little, but always later. Never on the actual field of battle. All that'd do is show the enemy you cared. It showed the enemy your weakness. Still, I was glad for my experience as a cavalryman for once. This guy was flipping out.

He rained down blow after frenzied blow and I parried all of 'em with ease. He wasn't thinkin' straight. If he was, he'd be making smart moves, tryin' to find an opening in my guard. As he was now, he was just swingin' his sword like a wild animal. Maybe he'd been close to the guy I'd just cut up?

It didn't matter. They'd both made their choice…siding with the rest of their Shinigami comrades to round up innocent villagers and butcher anyone who resisted. I didn't know enough about the situation to make any really convincing arguments either way, but I'd learned something from Columbia.

Right was right and wrong is wrong. No matter how much you dress it up in church hymns and pretty decorations, a shithole's still a shithole. Columbia, for all of it's spiffy gadgets and 'sophisticated' culture was still just a shithole. It was full of rich men, livin' off the labors of ten more poor families. I'd seen Finkton, I'd seen all of Comstock's prisons and factories. Something told me that these Shinigami types weren't so different from that bunch; whatever they'd had in mind for those villagers, it probably wasn't all that charitable or nothin'.

So I didn't feel to bad about waitin' for the kid to tucker himself out. He actually lasted a few dozen swings before he couldn't lift his saber off the ground where it'd hit after I dodged. This was the end.

"Aghhrr…!" It was the last sound he made after I swung my own brand new sword down on the back of his neck as hard as I could. It wasn't enough to decapitate the kid, but it made a fountain of blood spew out and I heard the sickening crunch of broken vertebrae as well. That was that for him.

So there I was, standing just past two fresh, unburnt corpses and covered in blood. The crows were still cawin' out back by the two chumps I'd sic'd 'em on. I had some new bloodstains on me from the two Shinigami I'd put down. All over my favorite vest, too. Damn it.

"…Hey!" I called out to the villagers. This didn't seem to do much for them, as they huddled down deeper into the tall grass at the sign of my voice. They were all layin' on their bellies in the dirt, sort of like how we would sometimes lie down when we wanted to snipe people across a flat field. I never much liked it myself. It was impossible to get up in time to stab someone with your knife if they snuck up behind you.

"Hey!" I repeated. Same result. I sighed in exasperation. "Look, I'm not gonna hurt you." I tried to keep my voice even to reassure 'em.

"W-who are you?" One of the villagers asked, in surprisingly fluent English. It was such a perfect accent that I was thrown off for a minute. I'd heard chinamen talk passably, of course, but never without any kind of accent.

"…I'm Booker." Was all I could think to say. Man had a point. Who the hell was I?

Sure, I'd helped out these guys when they were in a jam, but I didn't really have an kind of "official" authority. Hopefully they'd take into account the fact that I'd just saved 'em from slaving-militant primitive soldiers.

"…You're Booker." He repeated the name like it had a funny taste in his mouth, but he kept it shut. I guess after seeing what I could do to a perfectly serviceable corrupt government militia they weren't too keen on askin' any inconvenient questions. I shuffled my feet a little on the ground. I didn't think it could get anymore awkward than it already was, so I decided to just shoot.

"Do you have any food?"

* * *

Sukiyaki, I decided, was fuckin' delicious. I tore into my third steak with the same gusto as it's fallen kin before it, sending the choice, savory cuts of beef into their own personal hell at the bottom of my stomach. I ate all the little vegees that came with it, too. I gobbled up the whole damn thing and washed it down with some cool water. I wasn't gonna touch any kind of booze anymore.

It turned out that my little adventure here in China hadn't been completely fruitless after all. Not only was I getting' a sweet meal out the deal, but I'd also managed to get my hands on a weapon as well.

The Shinigami had all been carrying distinctive black sabers. Since they weren't gonna need 'em where they were going, I just helped myself to one of them. So I tore off a piece of one of the dead guy's robes and used it to make a sword-belt for myself. I had used swords before when I was in the 7th cavalry, although I'd never really been partial to 'em. Still, I knew my way around a blade. It was no sky-hook, of course, but at the very least it'd make a nice souvenir.

"Ah, thanks a bunch." My pappy always taught me the importance of properly givin' thanks where it was due. "It was awfully decent of you to put me up for the night."

"Oh, you don't need to worry about that." The woman across from him said pleasantly. She was dressed in somewhat plain looking olive green and sand-colored robes. Her raven hair was done up in a bun and she gave off a matronly impression. "It's no trouble at all." She affirmed. "It was the least we could do after you saved the whole village, after all!"

I grinned a little at that. Yep. I had finally done somethin' right for once. Me, Booker DeWitt, actually doin' somethin' good for a change. Imagine that. The boys back home would be gawking and jeerin', and maybe even McKinley'd get a heart attack over it.

"She's right, you know." The man sitting next to her nodded sagely. He looked quite a bit older than the both of us, but he was apparently her husband. I'd not said nothin' about it; No need to rock the boat…and the gravy train.

They were Mitsuhide Roku and Sakuya, respectively. The Mitsuhides had graciously let me crash at their place for the night. I was certainly grateful for that. A lot of the other villagers still acted a little uneasy around me, and I guess I couldn't blame 'em. Not every day you see a guy who summons death-crows and shoots fireballs out of his hands…

"I don't know what they had in store for us wherever we were going…" The man admitted, eyes downcast. I had known a lot of guys like him back in the army. Tough guys. They didn't like feeling powerless. "…But I think it's safe to say that we wouldn't be here if you hadn't stopped them. For that, we are in your debt." He said seriously.

I took a moments pause from my feast to reassure him. "I was just doing what any good man should do. It ain't right, for people to walk all over anyone. They were just thugs who thought that their shiny little swords made 'em hot shit. You don't got worry anymore, though…" I patted my new sword, hanging limply from my makeshift belt. "They won't be bothering you ever again."

The man sighed. "I'm not so sure about that." He had a grim look on his face. "I'm not sure how much you know about Shinigami. To be honest, I don't know more than the basics, either. They keep mostly to themselves, usually. But those men certainly did not represent the bulk of the Seireitei's military power. If anything, they were just a small taskforce sent out to do whatever it was they were trying to pull out here."

"What's the Seireitei?" I interrupted. If this wasn't the last I was gonna here of this afternoon, It'd be best if I learned all I could about what I'd just gotten myself into.

Mitsuhide's wife raised an eyebrow. "You mean you don't know? You must not have been here long, then. The Seireitei is where all of the Shinigami live. They only ever leave if they're out on patrol in the districts closest to the Seireitei, or if they need to be in a specific place for some reason. I'm not sure what their reasons might be…but if today was any indication, nothing good." She began to glare darkly into space at that last part. Something told me these two might've just been close to one of those bloodstains outside.

"Yeah, funny thing you should mention that." I prepared to explain myself. I wasn't exactly sure what to say. I hadn't just fell from the sky…but how could I explain being in Dakota one minute and being in China the next? Either way, I needed answers, and these people seemed to at least know more about all of this than I did. "I…I didn't come here, myself. Or at least I didn't choose to. I don't know what happened, exactly." They regarded me quizzically. I sighed, and decided to just take a shot in the dark. "Basically, I died. Or at least, I think I did. Then I woke up, and…and I was a…a ghost." I looked back and forth between the two of them, to see if they were still with me. Surprisingly, they were. They didn't look at me like I was crazy or funny in the head or anything. I decided to finish. "Then this…girl showed up. She was a Shinigami, I think. Or something. She was wearing those same black robes, and she had a sword. She knocked me out with the pommel, next thing I know I'm waking up in the forest just west of here." I looked at them expectantly.

Realization seemed to dawn on Sakuya and Roku's face. The latter nodded to himself. "Yes, I think I know what happened. I think there are some things you should be aware of, actually." He spoke frankly, and Sakuya looked at me with an expression of either concern…or pity. "You're dead, Booker. And so are we. Everyone in this village, the combined Rukongai districts, and the Seireitei are dead. This is the afterlife."

Uh…_what?_

This…this was the afterlife? A bamboo forest, a tiny little village, and a bunch of tyrannical sissy swordsmen? Well, I'd heard weirder theories, I guessed. I decided to look on the bright side. At least there were no fucking angels and so far no St. Peter. Somehow I doubted I'd be admitted without doing some hard, serious time in Purgatory.

"So…this is where we go when we die…?" I asked cautiously. He nodded simply.

"Yes, and now you're here. It was most fortunate that you showed up when and where you did. The place of your arrival is random, or at least, no one could tell you how it worked in any practical way. But it's strange…" He said. "If what you're saying is true, then you must have gotten here just this afternoon…" He looked up at my eyes for confirmation. I told him pokin' around the houses, but I might have left out the part about food and inserted the word 'survivors'. "In that case, I'm not sure quite what to make of you, but you said you were starving. You probably don't know this, but most of us don't actually need to eat in order to survive here." Huh? What'd he mean? "We farm food because work is something to do, and we can still sell our crops in the market. The richer folks like to eat at restaurants and hold big feasts and parties. We can use the money we get from farming to buy houses, clothes, tools, and land. We can eat, and even get full if we overindulge, but we'll never actually get hungry or thirsty. Only people with Reiryoku will get hungry, and even then…It's unheard of to happen straight after arrival. And such power! You made the Shinigami look like feeble children!"

I shook my head. "Not really. I used my vigors…special powers I picked up back on Earth. I could do 'em when I was alive." An odd look came to the man's face.

"Oh? I'm not sure I understand. As far as I was aware, you don't bring anything with you when the Shinigami send you here."

I scratched my chin. "Well, it's not really like that. It's not that it's an object or a weapon…" I tried to think of an explanation, but decided to just show them. I concentrated for a moment and brought up my hands. For a second there was nothing, and then…blue, glowing crystals just seemed to…grow, straight out of my palms and spread all over the rest of my hands like weeds. Glowing and illuminated miniature arcs of lightning shot out from the crystals and zippity zapped all over my hands, but they were still contained…for now. "It's like I was…changed, while I was still alive. And I guess the changes came over with me." Roku looked thoughtfully and stared at my vigorous hands. Sakuya covered her mouth and stifled a gasp.

"Hmmm…I'm not sure that's all there is to it." He said finally, after a minute's consideration. "I've seen people come here before who'd died extremely violent deaths, or claimed that they'd had scars before they died here. It was always my understanding that any unnatural changes incurred in your life stayed behind in the world of the living. The fact that you have those…vigors? Yes, that must mean that whatever changed you and gave you those abilities went more than skin deep in the first place." Apparently satisfied with that explanation, he leaned back and I let my vigor fade away 'till the skin healed over again leaving perfectly normal, maybe a little calloused, hands.

"Huh." Was all I had to say about that. So I could keep my vigors as a ghost. Neat, I guess. At least, they'd certainly helped with those Shinigami. I got some food and a weapon out the deal, too. Not bad. "That's lucky."

"There's something else, though…" He eyed the blade I'd taken when I got in that scuffle with the last two Shinigami. "You must have an awful lot of Reiryoku, especially for a new soul. Something else you should know about Shinigami…I saw you fighting those two with your _bare hands_. That isn't usually possible at all for regular souls like us."

I raised an eyebrow at that statement. They hadn't been all that skilled, especially compared to some of the stories I used to here about Peking. They didn't call it the 'Boxer' Rebellion for nothing. I had started to grasp the fact that I wasn't _actually_ in China, but maybe in some kind of weird Chinese-themed heaven, or something. Maybe I was jumping to conclusions; I hadn't actually seen anywhere but the weird thin-treed forest and this little village. Maybe the city, or this 'Seireitei' place was different. Then again, with a name like that, I half expected the black hole of Calcutta…

Roku continued. "Having a large amount of Reiryoku is a requirement for a Shinigami. It stops physical attacks from working on them, somehow. But you managed to fight them with their bare hands, and then use their own weapons against them!" He gestured to my souvenir.

"Yeah…I guess so. What is this Reiryoku stuff, anyways. I don't feel all that different from before I died…I don't think…"

"Reiryoku is…Spirit Energy, for lack of a better term. It is the innate power that makes up and holds together the bodies of everyone here. I suppose you might say that it is the fuel the you need to keep the fire of your soul alive. If you ever used lost _all_ of it, you would die. When I say that you have Reiryoku, I really mean that you have a much larger than typical amount. Everyone has some Reiryoku; just not in any appreciable amount." He concluded his impromptu ghost science lesson, and I thought it over. So basically, dying was like joinin' a posse. You had to bring your own gun. Some people got Mausers, some people got Hand Cannons. I'm one of the lucky guys, brought a Hand Cannon.

"Got it. Huh. Well… I guess I hit the Jackpot with that, eh?"

Roku answered in a cautious tone. "Perhaps. But I would advise you to practice caution. The Shinigami do not like it when others encroach on their domain or question their authority. A man with highly developed Reiryoku who refuses to join their ranks could be interpreted as both. And the night is full of terrors, even excluding the Shinigami. Which brings us to our next problem…" He looked at me sadly. Almost ashamed. Neither he nor his wife would look me in the eye, and I got the feeling I wouldn't like what he had to say next.

"Booker, we are grateful that you saved us and our village. We will be forever in your debt for defending us from Shinigami when so few are willing to stand up to them. This is why it pains me so much to say this, but…you cannot stay here." He looked dead serious and solemn-like, so I just raised an eyebrow and remained calm. I'd never really intended to stay for long in any case, despite his assumption of my intentions. Don't get me wrong, it's a nice little place the got goin' here, but I doubt I could pull off the farm life. These people…they were simple, decent folk. They believed in a day's work for a day's pay. I…wasn't like them. I would never have fit in here in any case. I let Roku finish, though.

"Beings with high Reiryoku typically join the Shinigami for more than just the power and prestige they offer…" Sakuya broke in. "It is for protection, as often as not. Potential Shinigami are often hunted by beings called hollows, otherwise. Just because they have high Reiryoku does not mean that they are capable of fighting, like you are, which makes them nothing more than a tasty morsel for hollows…along with anyone nearby when the attack finally comes."

"What are these Hollows?" I couldn't help but interrupt. I'd heard them mention these things a couple of times, but didn't give it much thought. They sounded like some kind of wild animal. I had no idea how wrong I was.

"Hollows…hollows are spirits, like us, but not." Roku sagely intoned. "They are the ghosts of the dearly departed who could not move on in peace. They could not accept their death for what it was, or perhaps they had unfinished business in the world of the living. In any case, for whatever reason, they do not proceed to Soul Society as we do. They stay in the world of the living, and become hollows; twisted and perverted spirits who devour one weaker, innocent souls after transforming into hideous monsters. Onstensibly, the entire purpose of the Shinigami's existence is to _protect_ us from hollows…"

"Clearly that ain't the case." I finished for him. The scum I'd taken care of today could not in any way, shape, or form be described as 'protectors'.

"It's…not that simple, Booker." Sakuya said sadly. She had a distant look on her face. "Not all of the Shinigami are like them. At the end of the day, no matter how much they've convinced themselves otherwise, Shinigami are people just like us. They have hopes, dreams, and lives of their own. But by that same token, there are bad Shinigami as well as good. It's true that they tend to lose sight of the needs of individual souls, especially out here in the upper districts, but everything that they do is in the interest of what they perceive as the greater good."

I couldn't stop the snarl that crept up on my face. I must've looked a sight vicious, 'cause they both looked away pointedly after that. "There wasn't nothin' good about what I found in this village this morning. There's _never_ a justification you can think up to excuse butcherin' the people you promised to protect…" My words were like ashes in my mouth, and I knew why. Hypocrisy has never really sat right with me, but here I was. Spoutin' preacher talk like I was a fuckin' Saint myself. I'm fairly certain that the Miniconjou would be surprised to hear those words come from _my_ mouth, too…

"Anyways…" I moved on. "I understand. I'll move on first thing in the mornin', If it makes you feel better."

They tried their best to look disappointed, but I could tell that they were secretly relieved. I understood why. They had been afraid I might refuse, and they wouldn't have exactly had any way of forcin' me out… I wouldn't do that, of course, but at the end of the day they didn't really know me that well.

* * *

Morning came faster than I thought. The Mitsuhide's insisted that I stay around for breakfast, and I graciously accepted. Nothin' like hard boiled eggs in and some bacon to start up your day. I got the impression that this might've been a significant feast on their part, and started having second thoughts about takin' advantage of their hospitality. On the other hand, _they_ apparently didn't really need to eat; it was more of a luxury. I, as it happens, _did_ need food to keep on livin' cause of that Reiryoku stuff (Which I had decided to simply refer to as 'Ghost Salt' from now on, due to the difficulty of pronunciation) , so I guess it might be a bad idea to turn away free meals.

"Where are you going to go now?" Roku asked me as I was on my way out. That was a good question.

"I don't know…but I think it'd be better to lay low for now. I don't fancy runnin' into anymore Shinigami types, so I guess I'll head away from the Seireitei or wherever…" It sounded like a good plan. Better for them than me stayin' here, anyways. I didn't want to overstay my welcome.

"That means heading out deeper into the upper districts…" Roku warned me cautiously. "Going down that path means you'll have to worry about more than just vengeful Shinigami… The further away from the Seireitei you get, the weaker law and order becomes. The only reason our community is normally peaceful is because we're remote, and relatively out of the way of the most travelled roads. We're actually not that far from District 80 ourselves…" He said that last part rather ominously.

"Oh?" I asked him, intrigued.

"Yes. District 80, called 'Zaraki' is by far the worst of Northern Rukongai. It is a wretched hive of scum and villainy the likes of which you have yet to see. It is far, far too dangerous, even for someone as powerful as you!

I remained blasé. If this Zaraki place was so dangerous and unpoliced, it sounded like the perfect place to lay low while this Shinigami thing blew over. "Perfect." I said with a feral grin. "Which way?"

Roku seemed annoyed. "Are you not listening to me? You'll _die_ if you go there! Only the toughest or most desperate men in the Rukongai would even _think_ of setting foot in that hell-hole!" He warned sternly. I paid him no mind. I appreciated his hospitality an' all, but I was a big boy. I could take care of myself. Besides, I seriously doubted this place had anything to throw at me I hadn't seen before. I'd taken on Columbia and the some weird ghostly militia. I could handle this place, no sweat. I'd just lie low for a couple of days, maybe a week. 'Sides, crooks had to eat, too, and I'd feel a lot less shitty about looting their food from their corpses than I would with these villagers.

With that pleasant thought in mind, I set off on my journey. Roku wouldn't tell me where Zaraki was, but I managed to figure it out on my own. He'd said that the districts got worse as you went away from the Seireitei, which was apparently south of here based on where I'd found the Shinigami encampment and that the Mitsuhide's had called this place 'North' Rukongai, whatever that meant. So, I headed North, confident that I could take care of anything I'd find in this 'Zaraki' place. What a fuckin' idiot I was.


End file.
